On a Wire
by Lord-Cthulu-Speaks
Summary: Entire story written from Kenny's POV The boys are now in their senior year of high school, and have admittedly begun to drift apart. Stan and Kenny are still close, given that the two are dating. Kenny isn't quite happy with his realtionship, given the fact that long-dead feelings for Kyle have seemingly been suddenly resurrected...
1. Wishful Thinking

"Kenny"

I open my eyes and look at him. He's standing before me, calling to me in that voice. That voice that I had fantasized about so many times over. And his body. That wide expanse of cream-colored skin which is now gloriously uncovered, ready for my eyes to greedily drink in. Normally upon waking, I'm extremely groggy, but this time I'm wide awake, some parts of me more "alert" than others.

Kyle Brofloski is standing by the foot of my bed. And he's stark naked.

In the soft light of the morning, his skin is giving off a milky glow. I notice the halo effect that it has as he silently pads around the bed to where I'm laying, moving like a hazy shadow; liquidly. As he slides into bed with me, I'm paralyzed. His emerald eyes have me in a deep trance. Those lips, the color of carnations, touch themselves to mine. Suddenly, I can speak, and to my horror the first word to come tumbling from my mouth is "Don't".

Kyle draws back, but barely. He and I are only separated by a few inches of warm air. Thos eyes, gliding over my face, they hold no disappointment. They stare past my lie and see the truth. Those eyes. The expression in them makes my lips quiver in want. They make my hands twitch by my sides. What is stiff now begins to ache. My mind fills with shame while my head fills with lust.

"And why not?" he asks of me, batting not a single one of his thick girlish eyelashes. He is aware of what he is doing to me, and to what extent, without even looking. Those eyes never stray from mine.

"You know why not" I whisper, almost inaudibly.

He looks away now, and I feel the emptiness of being deprived of that gaze. Like the sun had gone behind a cloud; coldness. That gaze returns to me, and an expression of near shame is on his face. That expression alone makes my resolve begin to melt in the heat currently coursing through my body.

In a voice nearly as quiet as my own, he responds.

"I know what you want, and what you want more than anything else...is me"

"You are the devil"

My hands twitch again before breaking free from their paralysis. They are around his waist as I roll him over and take him.

***

I didn't hear Stan come in. I was sleeping like a rock in the warm, moist puddle that I had made on my sheets. I didn't feel the mattress sag as he gingerly lay down next to me.

I stir, feeling a warm hand lying on my exposed thigh. I roll over to embrace my lover, but I'm confused. I see black hair, not red. Cobalt blue eyes instead of brilliant green.

It's Stan. My boyfriend. Stan.

I suddenly recognize last night for what it really was; one among my endless myriad of wet dreams.

What set this apart from the rest, however, was the fact that lately, my dreams were about only one person. The one boy I couldn't have.

Kyle.


	2. Just Another Day

Stan is smiling at me and i can feel the shame beginning to rise in my stomach. I cringe to think what would happen if he knew what I had been dreaming about. WHO I had been dreaming about.

He's noticing the sick look an my face, which makes his smile fall. He asks me what's wrong in a voice so sweet, it makes my eyes moisten. I blame it on my sleepiness, I must have eaten something last night, my head hurts. Deny, deny, deny. All the while I'm fighting back tears. I wanted it to be Kyle, not Stan that I was talking with just now. I wanted it to be Kyle, not Stan that I snuck behind the scool for quick makeout sessions before the bell rang. I wanted it to be Kyle, not Stan, that i took to bed almost every other night.

It's like an infection tearing me apart from the inside out.

I love Stan, but I want Kyle.

I...love...Stan.

Right?

I'm so busy with my internal warring that I'm zoning. Stan looks concerned. He asks me again if I'm okay, and I force a weak smile and another lie. He kisses me and smiles back.

On with my day.


	3. Looking Back

Told from Kenny's POV

I can't say for sure when my little fixation started, I'd never really noticed my…need, until it had become almost an obsession. I had always possessed a "nondescriminative sexuality, as a friend once described it. I just took that as the nice way of stating that given the proper motivation, I would fuck everyone and everything that moved. Preps, nerds, bitches.

Even boys.

Especially boys.

I didn't take my need for Kyle as anything other than my dick talking, but I never intended to do anything about it.

Stan came out to me as being bisexual during the summer of our sophomore year in high school. We started fooling around a few weeks later. After about a month, he broke it off with Wendy for good and we started fucking regularly. Somewhere in there we started dating and before we knew it, almost a year had passed. By this time I had all but forgotten about Kyle.

I remember the March of our junior year relatively clearly. Stan had been sick a lot; he eventually got tested and came up positive for mono. This particularly sucked for yours truly, because this greatly limited out physical contact. None of the symptoms ever showed up in me, so I assumed that I hadn't caught it.

On one of these days, the 19th or 20th or somewhere around there (Stan had been out of school for 2 weeks), was when things started up again. I came to school an hour late (overslept) and snuck into my English lit. class as they were coming back from a computer lab. No one paid me much attention, including out teacher, Mrs. Laerman. I remember noticing the excited buzz about everyone, even more so at lunch. I hadn't even completely sat down before it came tumbling out of fatass's mouth.

"Hey Kinny, looks like yew an' the hippie aren't alone anymore" he said, ketchup dripping down his double chin. "Jew boy finally got thrown outta the closet."

I remember the way he stared at my face after that, trying to gauge my reaction. I remember having a very hard time keeping any emotion out of my face for the next few minutes. Cartman just stared at me, and I stared right back. Apparently my blank face technique wasn't working out too hot because he just started to chuckle to himself, and with that evil glint in his eye, he purred "Don't worry Kinny, I won't tell your faggy bitch."

He may be an irritating fuck, but he can always see right through people. I have to give him that at least. For all of the years that I have known him, Eric Cartman could always read me like a book.

The rest of the day was terrible. I went from alternately hating the news and hating myself for it, and trying to convince myself that I didn't care. Mostly I was just frustrated that after all this time I'd been assuming that my need had been just a passing thing, when it was truly just laying in wait. I felt guilty for it, but knowing that it was once more possible gave me hope. Whether I liked it or not, the attraction had returned.

For the next half month or so, I found myself watching Kyle almost nonstop. I couldn't help but keep tabs on him from the corners of my eyes. When I'd notice what I was doing, I'd have to consciously make myself stop, and less than a minute later, I'd be doing it again. It was like my attempts to quit drinking; I just couldn't do it.

And coincidentally, it was the alcohol that did me in.

Obviously, as is most of our school, I am a frequenter of parties. Booze was (and still is) my vice, not to mention that Stan is a lot more lenient in bed when he's had a few.

But at this particular party, Stan was still out with mono. I decided to go solo, like I had back in my man-slut days, but initially had absolutely no intentions of getting any ass that night.

I remember everything from that night, although in the next week I had spent a considerable amount of time trying to convince some people (mostly Kyle) that I didn't.

I remember sitting on the couch in the living room, placidly sipping my drink.

I remember Butters passing out over the arm rest of said couch.

I remember Cartman picking up the tiny blonde and bringing him outside to his truck. He maintained that he was taking Butters home, but the evil glint in his eye said otherwise.

I remember that the same thought had crossed my mind a few minutes prior.

I remember Kyle crashing onto the couch beside me.

I remember the way he was giggling.

I remember the way he was looking at me.

I remember him leaning forward.

I remember him grabbing my junk.

I remember kissing him.

I remember him asking me to take him upstairs.

I remember taking his wrist and dragging him.

I remember him clumsily collapsing on the bed.

I remember leaving the lights on.

I remember slowly stripping him.

I remember how beautiful he looked naked.

I remember sucking on the sides of his neck.

I remember the way he gasped when I bit down.

I remember leaving dark hickeys.

I remember straddling him.

I remember the way he trembled beneath me.

I remember him reminding me that he was a virgin.

I remember the way he cried out upon my entry.

I remember the way he sank his nails into my shoulder blades.

I remember the way he squeaked or mewled with each of my thrusts.

I remember him biting down on my shoulder when he was getting close.

I remember him screaming my name as he came.

I remember falling asleep with him clinging to my chest and his face nuzzled deep into my shoulder.

Mostly I remember waking up and seeing his face, ashen with fear and embarrassment.

I remember his saying that he wouldn't tell Stan.

I remember that no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he was throwing on his clothes.

I remember the brief look of longing in his eyes as he almost sprinted out the door.

Communication was strained between us after that. Not that we had talked too much before any of it, but our contact was dissolved into awkward silences and avoiding each other. He kept to his word, and to this day Stan has no idea what happened that night.

If only I could forget.

That look he gave me as he headed out the door was on my mind all the time. The sex didn't stick out in my mind as much as that one last look over his shoulder did. Don't get me wrong, the sex was great, and I thought about it often, even had dreams about it. But that look flashed into my mind all the time. Before I went to sleep. Getting out of the shower. Eating breakfast.

Eventually Stan got over his mono and we went back to our regular schedule.

But every time we would watch a movie, I was wishing that it was Kyle snuggled against me. When we would make out in the back of Stan's car, I would wish it was Kyle's ginger locks that my fingers were sinking into. One night I screamed Kyle's name during sex. Luckily for me, it sounded like a normal scream, but it was around that time that I knew I was in trouble.


	4. Someone I Should Mention

Told from Kenny's POV

~~~

Outside of Kyle and myself, I know of only one person who knows about what went on that night. Her name is Chevvy, and she and Kyle have a wierd but close relationship. She often stays the night at Kyle's house, which used to confuse everyone prior to Kyle's coming out. the girls all hate her. The call her a bitch and a slut, but she dishes it out right back at them. At least when she says it, it's true.

Chevvy's parents had a huge divorce about seven months after they moved here from Minnesota in the eighth grade. As it turns out, her dad stumbled across the fact that Chevvy isn't really his kid, as it turns out Chevvy's mom is a slut to rival Cartman's mom. He moved back to Minnesota, she and Chevvy stayed here. Chevvy's mom is never at home, so essentially she lives alone.

She's usually pretty laid back about things, the only time I've ever seen her freak on anyone was when Cartman and Kyle were having one of their brawls and Kyle appeared to be losing. She sent fatass home with a black eye.

In other words, her hot button is people messing with Kyle.

The reason I relate all of this, is to mention the fact that the week directly following my encounter with Kyle, I spent watching Chevvy very closely. I expected some sort of confrontation, but nothing ever happened. I was wary of her because if I made one bad move toward Kyle, she'd be on me like a brick wall.

Bad metaphor, I guess. Brick walls can't exactly move or attack people. I guess if they could that'd be scary as hell. I'm serious. I mean imagine some big-ass brick wall getting up and coming to bash your face in.

That's the trippy sort of scary.

But anyway, you get what I'm trying to say here. Whether brick walls can eat people or not, I never spoke to Kyle about what happened because I was afraid of Chevvy getting into it. I mean seriously, If some 5 foot something chick comes flying at you, you can't exactly hit her back without someone running your ass through the blender. Things don't work that way.

I wanted to talk about what had happened with Kyle, but didn't want to run the risk of upsetting him. I spent months thinking about it. Eventually my fixation led to my first thoughts that mine and Stan's relationship was out of convenience, not love. It was not long after this thought that I'd started to have my nightly Kyle dreams.

~~~

As of right now, I am sitting in College Chemistry, trying not to zone. The room is set up as separate lab tables each seating two people. We weren't allowed to pick out partners, and as a result, I was put next to Token. It's not so bad I guess, because I can cheat off of him anytime I want. Directly behind us are Chevvy and Craig, the former currently resting her face in her palm and dozing. I sit on the left side of the desk, and across the aisle to my left is Tweek. On the other side of Tweek is Stan, and behind them is Kyle.

I really should be paying attention, but I'm thinking too much. I'm feeling guilty. Stan knows that something's up. He keeps shooting glances in my direction, and I can see his head moving toward me out of the corner of my eye. I wish I could tell him, but there's no easy way to say this.

I don't even know if I have a shot with Kyle.

That look over his shoulder, which will be permanently burned into my memory, could have been a look of something else. I could have just seen it that way because that's what I _wanted_ it to be. Uncertainty is enough to make me balk.

I decide that sleep is the best answer at this point and join Chevvy in unconciousness.


	5. Down This Road Again

From Kenny's POV

* * *

I'm back at the party. It's dark, save for a deep amber-colored light that's coming from the kitchen which is straight ahead and slightly off to the right of me. I'm surrounded by people, and everybody around me is dancing, but slowly. My vision is swimming, like being intoxicated minus the disorientation. It's like everything is moving at half speed except for me.

The crowd parts slightly, like a door opening up to me. They only move enough to allow a single silhouette to walk through. It begins to move in my direction as the people-wall closes behind it. I can almost feel the physical push of it against me as it comes closer. I honestly don't know why I'm referring to him as "it". I obviously know who it is, which becomes more obvious as he comes within touching distance. With one creamy pale hand, he pushes me back, making me fall onto the couch lying behind me. Kyle smiles playfully.

He's dressed the exact same as I remember him, light wash jeans, pastel green button-up shirt. The light from the kitchen is playing shadows across the right side of his face, making his features on the left half shimmer and glow. He is the only person in the room to be moving normal speed, the others behind him look like they're dancing underwater. Not a single one of them is paying any attention.

My eyes are solely on Kyle.

His jeans are hugging him perfectly, giving me an outline of that which I am most dying to see. I can't help but stare at the gentle sway of his hips and he comes closer, gracefully seats himself in my lap, rests his hands on my chest. He smells of warm spices and vanilla, almost feminine.

I can't help myself. I don't seem to have the self-restraint that he has right now. My hands clamp down forcefully, almost roughly on his hips. I lean up, try to kiss him. I know those soft lips, need to feel them again. He won't indulge me. He puts his hand on my shoulder, pushing me to the back of the couch. His smile has now become seductive.

My fingers involuntarily dig in with seeing that look on his face, aimed at me.

He puts a finger to my lips, licking his own. His eyes darken, eyelids relaxing a little bit more. He leans forward, while at the same time moving my head slightly off to one side. He is now moving deliberately slowly, impatience wells up in my stomach. I feel those soft moist lips trace along my jawline, barely brushing the skin. His breath is warm on my face and neck. He stops just in front of my ear, pausing a minute before he kisses and begins to nibble on my earlobe. I sigh against his finger, still pressed lightly against my lips. He slides his mouth down to my neck beneath my ear, now gently flicking his tongue against my skin. He knows exactly where I'm the most sensitive, and it just so happens that this is one of my many turn-on spots. I swallow back a whimper, but this doesn't help much as I start to get hard. I know he feels this, because he moves down to where my shoulder meets my neck and begins to bite. I can feel him trying to leave a hickey.

This time, I cannot keep my whimper down.

He continues, one hand slowly trailing down my side, down to my jeans. I close my eyes and moan as he first cups, then squeezes me.

I open my eyes and immediately close them. I'm surrounded by white, and the pleasant floating feeling is quickly departing. I can feel the binding of my notebook pressed firmly and slightly painfully into my cheek. Stan's hand is the one cupping me, and he squeezes again. I open my eyes, but more slowly this time.

"You fell asleep, the bell rang" he says, pulling his hand away and leaning down. "You having wet dreams about me babe?" he purrs in my ear. My cheeks flush a bit, and this makes Stan smile. Behind him, Craig is picking up his books and arching his double-pierced eyebrow at us. We three are the only ones left in the room.

I have a pretty evident hard-on and I don't want to go to lunch like this. I kind of hold back, and Stan gets the hint. He grabs my hand, walking in front of me to shield me from any unwanted eyes. By the time we get to my locker and throw our books on top of it, the hall is completely clear of people.

Stan turns around and pushes me forcefully against the metal, slightly knocking the wind out of me. He gets up on his toes (he's too short to reach on his own) and kisses me on the nose, giving me his come-hither look.

As sexy as Kyle can be, I can never resist Stan when he gives me that face.

I take him by the wrist and hurriedly bring him over to the nearest boys' bathroom. I barely get the door closed before he's on me, biting, kissing, sucking on my neck. My hand is blindly groping at the door lock, trying to turn it without success. I'm about to forget about it and fuck him in front of God and all of South Park High when I hear a noise from the far part of the bathroom. Both of us turn our heads in unison, and I swear my heart stops.

He's sitting on top of one of the sinks, red hair fucked up, shirt on the floor, face flushed pink. Standing between his parted (but still clothed) legs, hand clamped over Kyle's mouth is Craig motherfucking Tucker.


	6. Take Out

Told from Kenny's POV

* * *

The sight of Craig on top of him is enough to drain almost all arousal out of my body. True, I had been wanting to see Kyle naked again for around five months now, but seeing him in someone else's arms shatters any illusions that I had harbored of making him mine.

Neither Craig nor Stan are looking at me, only Kyle sees the startled yet heartbroken expression on my face. His cheeks are flushing a bit deeper, and he cannot meet my gaze. His eyes trail to the floor.

Under normal circumstances, this would give me a bit of a rise, but in this case it just makes my stomach drop further. I feel sick.

Stan starts to talk, for which I'm grateful; my throat has completely closed up anyway. He starts to mumble an apology to them, his face completely red with emberassment. I can't distinguish any of his words from each other, but I get the gist when he takes hold of one of my wrists and pulls me gently toward the door. We stand out in the hall a minute, just staring at each other. Stan starts to laugh a little and says something about high-fiving Kyle for finally getting laid later. He leans against my chest and it takes me a second to realize that he has asked me a question. He turns and looks up at me, asking again if I want to try another bathroom. I hear the lock on the door click into place behind me, and my stomach does one final drop before deflating. In my mind's eye I can see Craig turning around and making some comment along the lines of 'Well now, where were we?'. I can see Kyle laughing out some response, opening his arms and melting back into Craig, completely forgetting about our little intrusion.

Stan notices my silence, but only nudges me a little. He looks worried like he did this morning, and there's a hint of sadness around its edges. I can't tell if he's on to me or not at this point. He asks me a third time, this time in a much quieter voice. I force my best smile under the circumstances and say that bathroom sex is kind of tacky, actually. He looks at my face a little longer, studying my expression before his own melts into his signature seductive innocence. He twines his fingers into mine and swings my hand around in little circles.

"Take me home then"


	7. Chasing My Own Tail

Told from Kenny's POV  
hr  
Stan breathes loudly as he crashes into the sheets next to me. His hair is stuck to his forehead. Which is drenched in sweat. My head had cleared a little bit on the way over here, and as soon as we were in Stan's room it had hazed over in a warm fog. Stan could tel that something was up with me, and had been all the more willing to please because of it.

He nudges me, and although I'm exhausted, I reach over his head and pull the slipknot that I'd made to hold his wrists to the headboard. He wraps his arms around my back and cuddles up to my chest, his nose burrowing into my collarbone. I lay back down, releasing every ounce of breath from my lungs. I bury my fingers into his hair and begin to stroke his head. My thoughts are beginning to unblur, but now that time has passed and I'm in this warm familiar place, they seem far away and secondary. I know they'll be back full force later, but for now I just bask in my detachment.

Stan's breathing has evened out and slowed a little, but I can see that his eyes are still open. I know that the remote for his TV is laying on his nightstand; I pick it up and flip the TV on. World's Dumbest is on TRU, and I watch that, turning down the volume when I finally hear Stan fall asleep.

I can feel sleep creeping up on me, but I'm afraid of what I might dream about. More than anything I want to text Kyle, but I have no idea what I would say. The fact that he more than likely had been about to be fucked by Craig meant that he's in a relationship or has become a slut. Neither option appeals to me much.

Nothing is really appealing to me right now. I'm not able to pay attention to the TV, not that I'd be able to if I could. My hand is now resting on Stan's scalp, but more out of habit than affection. It feels like all of my emotions are being sucked into a white void, something that happens often when I'm under stress.

I reach over for my phone with my free hand and pick it up. The screen is rough and chipped when I rub my fingers across it. This same phone wen through my dad and Kevin before being given to me. Someday when i move out, I'll give it to Karen, assuming that it still works.

I rub my fingers over the keypad, so worn down that the numbers are unreadable, and type a quick message to Kyle on an impulse.

h5hey dude srry bout that/h5

I hesitate, then erase that and type a new message.

h5can we talk?/h5

I erase that too. Too needy.

I retype my first message, reconsider, then decide on

h5hey man/h5

It's open-ended enough.

My thumb hovers over the SEND key for a minute before moving slightly to the right and saving it to drafts before I can do anything drastic. It's too soon anyway.

Eventually -blessedly- I fall into a conscious dreaming.


	8. A Change of Pace

Told from Kenny's POV  
hr

I 'wake up' to partial coldness. I'm alone on the bed, and the blankets are pulled up to my shoulders. I must have had my legs curled up beneath me before, because they are now stretched out and completely uncovered and ice cold. Despite my discomfort, I feel very well-rested. The failing light outside tells me that I've been sleeping for a few hours.

I get up and shudder as the cold air hits my newly exposed skin. I rub lightly at my temples and push my hair back with my fingers. The house is completely silent save for the steady thrumming of a shower down the hall. Warm water sounds amazing to me right now, and I waste no time heading toward it, not even bothering to get dressed.

The hallway is even colder than Stan's room, and it now occurs to me how awkward it would be if one of his parents were to come home and see me streaking through their house. I can't help but smile a little at the thought as I open the bathroom door. I'm immediately hit in the face with a wall of steam that effectively wakes up every nerve on the front half of my body.

Directly across from me through the haze, I see his unmistakable silhouette bracing himself against the wall, face upturned to let the water run down his body. He's completely motionless.

I close the door silently and pad across the room, my eyes fixed. It may be the fact that I'm still partially asleep, or maybe the way that the light from the setting sun is hitting him just right, but he looks like an angel. Like the physical form of virginity. Like endless blemish-free white.

I feel a little rise of hope, because at this moment, for the first time in over a month, Kyle is the furthest thing from my mind.

He still hasn't heard me when I open the door and slip up behind him. He jumps a little bit against me when my hands slip down around his waist and pull him snugly against me. I want to hold him here forever, just me and him beneath this warm waterfall. I want to forget Kyle now. I want to forget him and give all of my love to Stan, who deserves it.

Who needs it.

He pulls away enough to turn himself around. He wraps his arms around my neck and starts to lean up before he finally notices the look on my face. His devious smirk is gone in an instant. He instead looks up at me with un-Stan-like eyes; wide and innocent. I haven't seen that sweet expression on his face since the beginning all that time ago. Back when he still shook like a leaf every time I would mount him. Burrowed into my chest every time I would hold him. Gasp a little every time I would kiss him.

He's been hiding behind the sex appeal for so long because it's the only thing that I showed any interest in before. No longer.

The fact that I had driven out all of his innocence is enough to make me want to give myself a kick in the balls.

I want to give him some of that back.

My hand, seemingly of its own accord, moves out and rests on the side of his face, my thumb rubbing tiny circles onto his blemish-free skin. He doesn't seem to know exactly what to do. His hands are shaking a little bit, and he puts them around my middle. I smile a bit and use my free hand to pull him close again.

We are pressed firmly together, but there is no lust in it.

He pulls me tighter, squeezing himself into my ribcage. I wrap both of my arms back around him and squeeze back. Thank God for this warm water, he can't tell that I've started to cry.

I won't move. I won't leave. Absolute sureity is something that I haven't felt in such an ungodly time, but I can feel its presence thrumming just below my surface. I need him here with me. I've gone so long with nothing being certain in my life, but I'm certain of this.

I know that as I hold him, I'm in love with this noir.

I'm in love with emStan/em.


End file.
